


A long damp (k)night

by Phoenix_Soar



Series: Wicked Thing [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel/Demon Relationship, Frottage, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Marathon Sex, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Porn with Feelings, Scene: Kingdom of Wessex 537 AD (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Shameless Smut, Switch Aziraphale (Good Omens), Switch Crowley (Good Omens), Switching, The Arrangement (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/pseuds/Phoenix_Soar
Summary: It’s not that Crowley begrudges Aziraphale his mortal acquaintances, Heavenly duties* or endearing hobbies. But on occasion, he can’t help but wish that he can have a fraction of the time Aziraphale spends on all that instead.After Aziraphale's emphatic refusal to strike an Arrangement with Crowley, the Demon seeks out the Angel later that night, with another offer.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wicked Thing [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546879
Comments: 34
Kudos: 167





	A long damp (k)night

**Author's Note:**

> Part 11 of my 'Wicked Thing' verse. Please read the first part ['Wicked Games'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286790) to understand the premise of this series. (This fic also makes references to ['When in Rome'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22605847))
> 
> I mentioned in comment replies to the last part that it would take me a month to return to this series, but I actually found a pocket of time to finish this instalment and bring you guys - Knights in Wessex 537 AD! Huzzah! 
> 
> Also, did I make the lamest ass joke in the title? Yes. Yes, I did. ~~But the working title was ‘Sword Fight’ so really, I just picked the trashier of two terrible options~~

Crowley is a covetous thing, in keeping with the greed of the Infernal Horde.

Crowley is a covetous thing, but what he covets is not the souls of humans or anything else dictated by his superiors Downstairs. He covets _time_.

Specifically, the time of a particular Angel, which he always seems to be bestowing on others - humans, work, earthly delights and what have you.

It’s not that Crowley begrudges Aziraphale his mortal acquaintances, Heavenly duties* or endearing hobbies. But on occasion, he can’t help but wish that he can have a fraction of the time Aziraphale spends on all that instead.

(* All right, maybe Crowley does resent the Heavenly work Aziraphale has to do, but it’s in the same spirit of Crowley resenting the Hellish work he has to do. Disliking work is as much an occult and ethereal quality as it is human.)

Like right now. Crowley feels a flash of irritation as he watches, from behind one of the trees lining the little clearing, Aziraphale and his squire share a meal over a campfire. The Angel is still in his armour, his shoulders weighed down under that ridiculous fur caplet, and he is listening with a smile as his young assistant animatedly regales him with some tale or other over bowls of broth.

Aziraphale looks like he is genuinely paying attention to the excitable lad, but Crowley can’t help thinking that _he_ would’ve made a much superior supper companion. Who’s known Aziraphale for over four millennia and has the juiciest conversation fodder on account of having been present at all major events that took place in the world, ever? Not the bloody squire, who barely looks more than ten and five.

Crowley bites his lip as he watches the young man clean up while Aziraphale sees to his horse, tethered nearby.

Ever since Aziraphale turned his back on Crowley and his suggestion to _help each other out_ that afternoon, he has been thinking about how to approach the Angel. He doesn’t deny to himself that his proposed Arrangement* carries, in part, the objective of spending more time with Aziraphale.

(* Crowley came up with the name a few hours after Aziraphale stormed off. He thinks it’s rather nifty.)

Honestly, if their respective assignments are cancelling each other out, then lending a helping hand with the added benefit of meeting more often is downright genius, as far as Crowley is concerned.

But Aziraphale had gone white as his hair when Crowley made the suggestion, babbling on about _getting caught_. It had taken all of Crowley’s strength not to point out, with bitter frankness, that Aziraphale seems less concerned about all that when he wants Crowley for a good fuck.

That thought had sent Crowley spiralling down a dark road for a long minute. It’s been nearly five hundred years since their relationship took an unspoken turn towards the carnal. He has fucked Aziraphale in some dark, secret place for nearly every jug of ale they’ve shared since Rome. Although many of their meetings are still peppered with good conversation and laughter, there is no denying that this new change, this wicked game they play now, has become firmly embedded in their routine.

Crowley hates it sometimes. He doesn’t hate it when he has Aziraphale in his arms, memorising the beauty of his features, the ecstasy in his voice, when the Angel is caught in utter rapture. He hates it when Aziraphale isn’t in his arms after it’s over; the sound of the door closing, the silence left in the wake of departing footsteps.

He hates it that he won’t be the one to end this game. If this is the only way he can have Aziraphale, then Crowley will count every shitty blessing.

Caught up in the turmoil of his thoughts, it had taken Crowley a good while to abruptly realise that their clandestine meetings are, in fact, the perfect foundation to show Aziraphale how a professional Arrangement is a good idea. He’s not sure if it will _work_ , but Crowley has always been one to grasp at every straw for a reason to see Aziraphale.

Which is what has led him here, to the clearing where Aziraphale and his squire have set up camp for the night.

He waits until the young man is snoring in his bedroll, before finally emerging from the trees.

Aziraphale, who has taken out his own bedroll*, freezes at the sight of Crowley. But his surprise quickly melts and he straightens up, watching the Demon’s approach with furrowed brows.

(* Only for show, being in the presence of a human. Aziraphale still doesn’t see the appeal of sleep, despite the many times Crowley has expounded on its, dare he say, virtues.)

‘I thought I sensed you nearby,’ he says carefully.

Crowley shrugs, giving Aziraphale a crooked smile. ‘We barely exchanged greetings this afternoon. Figured I’d pop over while our … _comrades_ … are otherwise engaged.’

He spares a withering glance at the squire, who sleeps on, unaware of the conversation taking place between his master and supposed enemy*.

(* Enemy in both uppercase and lowercase E.)

‘We exchanged a bit more than _just_ greetings,’ Aziraphale begins with a frown, and Crowley knows the Angel hasn’t warmed up to his earlier suggestion at all.

It doesn’t matter. This isn’t how Crowley intends to bring up the Arrangement again, so he interrupts, cutting to the chase, ‘Thought I might tempt you to a sword fight?’

Aziraphale blinks. ‘A spar?’

He eyes Crowley up and down; not in the usual way that makes Crowley shiver when they are alone, but with a sceptical eye. Unlike the Angel, Crowley has ditched his black armour in favour of his linen undershirt and pants, with woollen stockings and a heavy cloak to protect him from the cold.

Before Aziraphale can shoot him down, Crowley says pointedly, ‘Well, in lieu of having a drink at an alehouse that doesn’t _exist_ in this neck of the woods … unless you have something better to do? Like _sleeping_?’

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, and the tension visibly drains out of him at the familiarity Crowley has struck up. ‘All right, all right, I see your point. I suppose a bit of practice couldn’t hurt. It would ward off this damp chill, in any case.’

Crowley turns with a hum, hiding his smile. ‘Come on, then. I’m camped not far off from here.’

‘Oh, I thought -!’ Aziraphale begins, looking surprised.

Raising an eyebrow, Crowley drawls over his shoulder, ‘You want to wake up your poor squire with this?’

‘Oh. Um. Right.’

Aziraphale rushes to fall into step with him. He hears the Angel murmur a quick blessing right before he catches up with Crowley, and upon seeing the Demon’s quizzical brow, explains, ‘Oh, I just set up a protective shield around young John. Wouldn’t do if brigands set upon him while I’m away.’

Crowley snorts, mostly to hide how endeared he is. ‘Your squire will be fine. The only brigands in these woods are mine, er, I mean the Black Knight’s. I made sure none of them will be hereabouts.’

‘Oh?’ Aziraphale sounds questioning but Crowley doesn’t elaborate. The Angel is about to soon find out why Crowley doesn’t want any of his underlings to come upon them tonight.

As they walk, Crowley can’t help stealing side glances at his companion. Aziraphale, strong Principality that he is, is walking easily enough in his armour, but his brows are still furrowed and there is a strained look to the hard set of his mouth.

‘All right, angel? You look stressed. Is it the armour?’

There is a pitiful sigh. ‘I can manage, but oh, these things are hardly comfortable, are they?’

‘No, they’re not,’ Crowley agrees, lips twitching. Aziraphale does like his comforts.

‘I don’t really need it, but I’ve been told that knights never take off their armour during missions.’

‘And who told you that? Heaven?’

‘Sir Percival,’ Aziraphale replies a bit testily, and Crowley can’t help but snicker. ‘He was quite _ardent_ about how one represents the Round Table. Though, I suppose I do need to keep up appearances for the sake of my squire, if nothing else.’

‘Don’t really need a squire, either, do ya?’

‘I’ve been informed that, as a knight, I rather do.’

‘Percival again?’

‘Sir Gawain, if you must know.’

Crowley chuckles again at the mild annoyance in Aziraphale’s tone. The Angel is apparently not too fond of his current mission.

‘All these prissy pricks stressing you out, angel?’

‘No, they’re … they are good people,’ Aziraphale insists. ‘But, uh … Upstairs is rather on my head these days. About getting Arthur to unite the land of Albion.’

‘Thought he’d accomplished most of that now,’ Crowley comments. With a sly smirk, he adds teasingly, ‘All that peace and harmony he’s spreading … despite the best fomenting attempts of the Black Knight.’

Aziraphale sends him a glare, but without any real heat. ‘I’m rather looking forward to the day I can dispense with this awful armour once and for all.

‘Hmm.’ Crowley gives him a look, just as they finally come upon the clearing where he’s set up camp. ‘Until then, nothing like a sword fight to take the edge off.’

Aziraphale doesn’t seem to hear the last part, eyes lighting up with pleasure at the fire Crowley had set earlier in the middle the clearing. It is large enough to warm the glade right up to its wooded border. There is a large bedroll already laid out on the mossy ground, a comfortable distance from the fire, and Crowley’s black charger* tied to a tree as far away from the bedroll as possible.

(* Troubled relations with horses or not, Crowley can’t always avoid them, much to his chagrin. Especially for a role like the Black Knight. His underlings have informed him that he cuts a dashing figure sitting astride his handsome charger.**

** Except for that one time the cursed horse threw him off. To this day, Crowley maintains it was deliberate.)

‘Oh, this is lovely!’ Aziraphale sighs, smiling happily. ‘Much larger than mine, certainly. And the ground is quite even; good for sparring! Shall we -?’

Aziraphale’s voice dies when, with a snap of the Demon’s fingers, every piece of his armour and sword vanishes off his body, to reappear in a haphazard pile beside the startled horse. Crowley’s heavy cloak joins them, leaving both Angel and Demon in their linen shirts and pants, staring at each other.

‘Crowley?’ Aziraphale whispers.

His eyes widen when Crowley approaches him, crossing the clearing with long, sauntering strides to place his hands on Aziraphale’s hips and pull him close. Crowley meets his shocked blue eyes, pausing long enough for Aziraphale to gather what’s about to happen and push Crowley away.

He doesn’t.

In the startled silence, Crowley breathes him in, crushing their mouths together in a hard, heated kiss that has Aziraphale clutching at his shoulders. He drinks in the surprised sounds Aziraphale makes, winding his arms around the Angel to pull him possessively to Crowley’s body, grinding against him.

Aziraphale breaks off the kiss with a little gasp. ‘I thought you wanted to spar?’

‘I never said spar. I tempted you to a sword fight.’

Crowley waits patiently for the full ten seconds it takes for Aziraphale to understand the double entendre. He grins when Aziraphale, screwing up his nose in distaste, exclaims, ‘You’re a menace!’

‘It’s in the job description. But it will certainly ward off the chill, as you said.’

Crowley grinds slowly against Aziraphale again, pressing his growing hardness against him. The Angel’s breath stutters, his cheeks flushing as he looks up at Crowley. The hazy beginnings of desire are blooming on his face.

‘If you don’t want this,’ Crowley says quietly, ‘you can walk away.’

Aziraphale swallows. ‘Do you want it?’

Crowley answers by pushing his hips harder against him. It drags another little gasp out of Aziraphale, his eyelids fluttering shut. Crowley feels it then, the Angel’s own growing interest pressing back against him.

Before he can even smile, Aziraphale is on him, arms locking around Crowley’s neck as he kisses him fervently. With a groan, Crowley welcomes Aziraphale’s searching tongue inside his mouth, adding just enough bite to the kiss to make the Angel moan and shiver.

Tightening his hold on Aziraphale, Crowley manoeuvres them clumsily towards his bedroll, which is covering more ground than it was originally designed to. They tumble onto the soft bedding, somehow managing to land on their sides without their mouths once separating.

Aziraphale clings harder to Crowley, allowing the Demon to heave his right leg over his hip to align their hard pricks together. The sudden friction is all Aziraphale needs to buck his hips, panting into the kiss as he ruts his cock against Crowley’s through the thin linen of their pants.

There is no finesse to the movements, no rhythm, and Crowley pulls away from Aziraphale’s slack mouth to absorb the raw sexuality of the vision Aziraphale makes as he writhes desperately against Crowley. His eyes are closed and soft moans fall from his parted lips as Aziraphale chases his pleasure.

Crowley groans, both at the sight of Aziraphale and the drag of linen, almost chafing, on his cock from how hard Aziraphale is rubbing on him.

‘That’s it, angel’ Crowley whispers, holding Aziraphale’s writhing body close. ‘Let me help you take the edge off. That’s it. Take what you need.’

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale cries and then he’s shaking in the Demon’s arms, warm wetness pooling between them as he comes, hard, in his pants.

Crowley blesses under his breath. He hadn’t actually expected Aziraphale to come that fast, and from rutting alone. They aren’t even properly undressed.

‘Needed that, didn’t you?’ he murmurs, smoothing a hand down Aziraphale’s side, over the curve of his arse and along the underside of his thigh, still resting on Crowley’s hip.

Panting, Aziraphale slowly comes down, blinking his dazed eyes open to the sight of Crowley watching him. Cheeks reddening, his looks down between their bodies, at the sticky mess on the front of his pants and -

‘Oh.’ Aziraphale looks almost guilty as he presses his palm, almost tentatively, to the front of Crowley’s bulging pants.

The touch makes him shiver and Crowley appreciates the thought, but he says seriously, ‘’S fine. You don’t have to - this was about you…’

He trails off, blinking with surprise, when Aziraphale suddenly snaps his fingers and their clothes disappear. Suddenly pressed skin to skin, both of them inhale sharply at the sharpened sensations of _warmth_ and _touch_ between them.

‘Aziraphale,’ Crowley begins, his thoughts whirling inside his mind. A quiet one is urging him to bring up the Arrangement now, the current context perfect to make his case. But a louder one is fearing that Aziraphale, having found his release and no longer wound as tight, might leave now, so soon after they’ve come back together again.

Crowley doesn’t want that. He doesn’t even care about his own state, he just wants a reason for Aziraphale to stay a little while longer -

The frantic rush in his mind comes to an abrupt standstill when Aziraphale lets go of him, removing his leg from around Crowley’s hip to lie on his back. Aziraphale meets his eyes for a long moment; and then, with a blush, looks away to … to …

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Crowley to fully realise what’s happening. Eyes widening and struck speechless, he watches as Aziraphale draws his legs up and spreads them, before reaching down with fingers - miraculously anointed with oil - to tease and press against his own opening.

Crowley sits up, his jaw slack as he follows the sure movement of Aziraphale’s fingers on himself. Aziraphale swirls his oiled fingertips over the puckered ring, loosening the tight muscle before pressing his middle finger inside, taking it to the second knuckle with a whine.

Aziraphale has done this to himself before, Crowley realises, cheeks hot and at a loss for what to do with that information*.

(* Much like the other things Crowley’s done with Aziraphale since that fateful day in Rome, this will become wank fodder for the lonely nights that stretch between their irregular meetings.)

Crowley has done this to Aziraphale on many an occasion, but the sheer arousal he feels at the sight of Aziraphale fingering himself open - and _for_ Crowley! - is unlike anything he’s felt before.

Enthralled, Crowley can only watch as Aziraphale slowly moves his middle finger in and out of himself, pushing in deeper with every thrust. Once he can take comfortably up to the third knuckle, a second finger joins in with a fresh layer of miracled oil, his tight hole stretching almost obscenely around them.

‘Angel,’ Crowley croaks, finally able to look away long enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. ‘Y-you … you really don’t have to…’

Aziraphale is making soft noises of pleasure. Looking up at Crowley, he breathes, ‘I want to and you didn’t fini - o _hh_ ,’ he breathes sharply when he is finally able to take both fingers all the way in. Crowley can imagine them pressing against his prostate and the thought alone is enough to drive him wild.

‘Shit, are you sure?’ Crowley hisses. He is almost shaking, his need for Aziraphale so strong he can barely focus on anything except the slide of those fingers, preparing Aziraphale to take Crowley’s cock.

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale moans. ‘Oh, please, C-Cro - Crowley! You … you can if - if you want…’

‘If I want,’ Crowley repeats incredulously.

With a thought, his hands are dripping with oil. Kneeling between Aziraphale’s spread legs, he waits only for the two seconds it takes for Aziraphale to nod his assent, and then Crowley is pressing his own middle finger into his hole. It takes a little pressure for the puckered ring to give way, and then Crowley has slid inside to join Aziraphale’s own fingers.

The Angel moans, and his voice cracks as Crowley moves his hand in synch with Aziraphale’s, fucking him open together.

‘Can you take another?’ Crowley asks breathlessly.

Aziraphale makes a sound that shoots directly to Crowley’s leaking prick. ‘Yes,’ he whispers, and Crowley is gratified to hear how turned on the Angel is by the prospect.

Breathing sharply through his nose, Crowley guides both their hands to a slow stop, their fingertips just inside Aziraphale. Gauging the Angel’s reactions, Crowley carefully adds the tip of his index finger into Aziraphale’s reddened opening.

‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes, please,’ Aziraphale almost sobs.

Slowly, Crowley begins to press in, sliding his index and middle finger alongside Aziraphale’s two inside. The Angel’s thighs are shaking and Crowley is bewitched by the stretch of Aziraphale’s oiled entrance around their four fingers, greedily sucking them inside the Angel’s slick heat.

‘Oh, angel, you feel so good,’ Crowley groans, watching the wet slide of their fingers in and out of Aziraphale’s quivering hole. His spent cock, still sticky with his spend, is stirring again with interest, and the sight only heats Crowley’s blood more.

‘Now,’ Aziraphale says breathily, slowly removing his fingers. Crowley follows, a tad more reluctantly. ‘I’m ready, you can …’ He doesn’t finish, looking up at Crowley expectantly.

On his back, with legs spread in wanton invitation - Crowley has had Aziraphale like this several times already. But the sight never fails to take him back to the memory of when they’d first done this, with Aziraphale in Crowley’s bed in a Roman inn of little consequence, begging to be taken.

Crowley gazes down at him, trying to hide the tenderness he can feel leaking into his expression. Despite the sharp lash of despair he still feels when he remembers that this is only meant to be a shag, a wicked game, it’s difficult to keep his genuine adoration and passion for Aziraphale from spilling when they are together like this.

‘I just wanted to help bring you off tonight,’ he tells the Angel, voice a little hoarse from desire. ‘You didn’t need to do all this, you know, just to make me finish.’

‘Of course you should get to finish,’ Aziraphale says. ‘And I wouldn’t if - I _want_ it, Crowley.’

‘Want what?’ Crowley breathes. Aziraphale’s words have moved them to slightly more familiar territory, and Crowley leans over his body to kiss his neck. He lets the head of his prick just graze Aziraphale where he wants Crowley the most.

‘Oh, you’re just being …’ Aziraphale whines, even as he tilts his head to give Crowley more room. ‘You know what I -’

‘I can’t know if you don’t tell me what you want.’ Crowley sinks his teeth into the tender flesh where Aziraphale’s neck meets his shoulder. The Angel inhales sharply.

‘You just had your fingers inside my…’ Aziraphale trails off, shuddering as Crowley’s teeth and tongue find his earlobe. ‘Oh, Crowley, _please_.’

‘What do you want?’ Crowley whispers in his ear.

‘I - I … ahh … I want you to come,’ Aziraphale whimpers in pleasure as Crowley sucks over his pulse, ‘come … come in, inside me!’

Crowley hums into the Angel’s warm skin, his heart palpitating at Aziraphale’s words. ‘Was that so hard?’

‘You menace,’ Aziraphale gasps, but his face screws up in helpless pleasure when Crowley pushes his legs up and finally presses his cock, lubricated with only a thought, inside.

Crowley can’t help moaning out loud as he sinks into Aziraphale slowly, inch by inch, the Angel’s heat almost searing as it envelopes his aching prick. He looks down at where they join, the obscene stretch of Aziraphale’s tight hole around him until Crowley’s balls, taut with arousal, meet his plump arse.

Breathing hard, Crowley looks up. ‘All right?’

Aziraphale’s face smoothes out, uncomfortable line by line, in that look Crowley has learnt to read as Aziraphale adjusting to being filled. Once he’s relaxed, Crowley miracles extra bedding under Aziraphale’s hips, eliciting a surprised sound from the Angel at the elevated angle. But then he smiles as Crowley guides his right leg to rest over his shoulder and the left around his hips, pausing for Aziraphale’s encouraging look before he begins to thrust.

Lips parting with a sigh, Aziraphale’s eyes drift shut as Crowley rocks into him, pulling out in increments to build up the pace. Aziraphale is wet, hot velvet inside and Crowley’s breath comes in pants as he fucks him with slow, deep thrusts, burying himself to the hilt every time.

‘Oh, that feels…’ Aziraphale breathes, hands fisting in the bedroll.

‘Feels like what?’ Crowley gasps, turning to mouth at Aziraphale’s leg resting on his shoulder. The Angel is already covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Crowley flicks his tongue out, tasting his familiar salt.

Aziraphale takes a moment to answer, crying out on a particularly hard thrust. ‘F-feels … ohh, yes, like that! Ah! _Ahh_ … feels so - so good. So …’ he bites his lip, moaning as Crowley nips at his leg. ‘So much b-better than …’

Crowley almost loses rhythm for a moment, staring down with wide eyes.

_So much better than … who?_

It is a thought he’s spent much of his time repressing. Aziraphale had said during their first time that he’d never sought a human’s touch. But it has been five centuries since then, and Crowley, jealous coveting thing that he is, has occasionally wondered if Aziraphale, after discovering pleasures of the flesh with Crowley, wouldn’t seek more from others.

_Do you let others do this to you?_

He doesn’t want to imagine it. He cannot conceive of it, Aziraphale moaning a name that isn’t his.

‘Oh, it’s …’ Aziraphale gasps, ’s-so much, so much better than - than … trying this … by my-myself!’

Crowley stares and barely manages to keep up the motion of his hips.

‘It never … feels the same with just my … my fingers.’ Aziraphale blinks up at him, and even in the firelight, Crowley can make out his blush.

For a moment, time stands still.

Then Crowley manoeuvres Aziraphale’s right leg off his shoulder to wrap around his waist instead, the new position allowing him to bend over the Angel, braced up on his forearms to gaze down heatedly at those hazy, blue eyes.

‘Is that right, angel?’ he growls, wafting hot breath over Aziraphale’s parted lips as he thrusts in harder. ‘You like this, having my cock in you? You like it when I fuck you like this?’

Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crowley’s back, bringing him in closer as they move together.

‘Oh, my dear, I - ohh! I … I wouldn’t if …’ Aziraphale bites his lip when Crowley adjusts the angle of his hips, whimpering, ‘if … if I didn’t like it.’

It’s only words, but it’s _so much more_ and Crowley cries out as his pleasure crests, his orgasm hitting almost out of nowhere. Aziraphale captures his mouth in a messy kiss as Crowley spends inside him, his hips falling out of rhythm as he rides it out.

‘That’s it,’ Aziraphale whispers against his lips, echoing Crowley from earlier. ‘That’s it, my dear. Just like that…’

Crowley buries his face in Aziraphale’s neck for a long moment, breathing harshly against the heated skin. Pressing a kiss to his fluttering pulse, he gently pulls out and moves to lie beside him again.

With a blissful sigh, Crowley smiles lazily and roves his gaze over the prone Angel, taking in the flushed sweaty skin, the rise and fall of his chest, his thick hard cock …

Crowley stills, blinking. ‘You didn’t come.’

‘It’s quite all right. I suspect it was because I already had, before.’

‘I didn’t make it good enough,’ says Crowley quietly.

It’s Aziraphale’s turn to blink this time. ‘What? No, don’t be silly. It was …’ His face reddens even more. ‘It was _exquisite_.’

Crowley stares a little. Trust Aziraphale to describe sex with such fancy words.*

(* Crowley won’t admit it but it absolutely makes him preen.)

‘I normally would have. Um. Finished, I mean. But,’ Aziraphale lowers his gaze, looking embarrassed, ‘perhaps I … I’m in need of a little more … stimulation.’

Crowley arches an eyebrow, assimilating this. ‘What do you want, angel?’ he asks in a low voice. ‘My mouth? Hands?’

Aziraphale blushes harder. ‘It’s all right, dear, I can … take care of it. Later.’

With a wank after leaving, that means. Crowley swallows. Is Aziraphale going to end tonight’s meeting like this? He is still reeling a little from the fact that the Angel chose to stay after his first orgasm to give Crowley attention; he is more used to their hurried trysts, those quick stolen moments between assignments.

He wants Aziraphale to stay a little longer. Given an inch, Crowley has never hesitated to take a mile, after all.

Crowley goes up on his hands and knees, shaking his hair out of his eyes to fix Aziraphale with a meaningful look.

‘Go on, then.’

Aziraphale gapes up at him, jaw slack. ‘C-Crowley…’

‘I want you to finish.’ He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. ‘C’mon, angel, take me. Come inside me.’

‘I … Crowley, it’s … you really don’t have to -!’

‘I want it, Aziraphale,’ says Crowley, pointedly bringing back what the Angel told him earlier. ‘I want you to come in me.’

Even if Aziraphale lets other people do things to him, Crowley can make damn sure that no human, not a single being out there, gives Aziraphale greater pleasure than Crowley does.

‘Oh, my dear,’ Aziraphale whispers, but his blue eyes are alight with arousal and he scrambles up onto his knees.

Crowley sighs when Aziraphale positions himself behind the Demon, pausing to smooth his palmsalmost reverently down along Crowley’s back. His soft fingers trace the knobs of his spine, and Crowley shivers as they follow the curve of his arse to slip between his cleft.

Aziraphale’s exploration comes to an abrupt halt, accompanied by a surprised intake of breath, as his fingers find Crowley’s opening, wet and loose already.

‘Crowley, I … did you…?’

Crowley can’t see his face but Aziraphale sounds almost disappointed.

‘Yeah, I … I didn’t want to waste time,’ says Crowley.

There is a pause. And then two of Aziraphale’s fingers pushes in, almost tentatively. Miraculously well prepared that he is, Crowley takes them in easily, shuddering at the feeling of being filled.

‘I should’ve … I should’ve liked to do this for you,’ Aziraphale admits very softly.

Crowley stills. During past meetings when Crowley was on the receiving end, there were several times when Aziraphale prepared Crowley the human way before taking him. But they had not been like tonight, with Aziraphale sticking around for more instead of scuttling away after a hurried shag. Crowley doesn’t know how long is too long for Aziraphale to keep staying, but he’d rather not drag things out to find out.

So he says, gruffly, ‘Next time, then’, and goes down on his forearms, leaving his arse in the air. He wiggles his hips a little, hinting at Aziraphale to get on with it.

Aziraphale hesitates. ‘If you really want -’

‘What I really want,’ Crowley rasps, ‘is for you to fuck me and fill me up.’

The Angel makes a soft noise, the kind he does when Crowley says or does something that he finds helplessly arousing, and then Aziraphale is draping himself over Crowley’s back. Mouthing soft kisses along his shoulder, Aziraphale guides his cock, anointed with oil, gently inside Crowley with the same care Crowley had shown to Aziraphale earlier.

A helpless moan is torn from Crowley’s lips as Aziraphale breaches him. He can feel the delicious burn of the stretch as his body accommodates the Angel’s thick cock, which fills him up with agonising slowness until Aziraphale is fully sheathed inside him.

Aziraphale pauses, wrapping his arms snuggly around Crowley and pressing his face to the Demon’s nape. The position is incredibly intimate and Crowley’s heart flutters in his chest.

‘Is this all right, my dear?’

‘More than all right,’ Crowley gasps. ‘Now move, will you.’

‘I’m so …’ Aziraphale swallows. ‘I’m very close. I won’t last long.’

‘That’s OK.’

Aziraphale keeps his face pressed to Crowley’s back as he begins to move, his hot panting breath heating up Crowley’s skin.

Crowley groans at Aziraphale’s slow, deep thrusts, the careful angling of his hips betraying his attempt to pleasure Crowley as much as possible.

‘Angel,’ Crowley grunts. ‘You don’t need to go slow. Go at your pace.’

‘But you -’

‘This isn’t about me,’ Crowley says firmly, even as he shivers at the drag of Aziraphale’s cock inside him. ‘Just take what you need.’

‘If I go faster,’ says Aziraphale, his breath stuttering, ‘I really won’t last.’

‘Good,’ Crowley whispers. ‘Come for me, angel.’

At that, Aziraphale finally picks up the pace, fucking hard and fast into Crowley. Moaning, Crowley buries his face in the bedding, crying out every time Aziraphale drives into his arse, filling the clearing again with the wet sound of skin slapping skin.

‘Oh, Crowley,’ Aziraphale moans, his mouth wet and hot on Crowley’s back.

On Crowley’s word, Aziraphale is no longer trying to aim for Crowley’s prostate, but he stillmanages to hit that sweet spot with nearly every other thrust, the pleasure enough to make Crowley see stars.

And then, abruptly, Aziraphale moves one of his hands resting on Crowley’s stomach to fist his cock. His fingers are covered again with oil, and Crowley moans at the slick friction on his prick which is filling up again. But from the frantic pace Aziraphale’s hips are reaching, Crowley knows that he won’t come before Aziraphale does.

Yet he can appreciate now what Aziraphale meant earlier; he’s close although not on the brink of another orgasm, but the pleasure is very much present and it is _exquisite._

‘C-Crowley!’ Aziraphale almost sobs his name and then his body goes taut, hips pressing almost painfully into Crowley’s arse as he comes.

Crowley groans at the familiar feeling of warm wetness filling him up. 

Much like Crowley earlier, Aziraphale takes several seconds to catch his breath and come down from his climax. Slowly, he moves off Crowley and the Demon turns over to lie on his back, swiftly miracling the mess out of his arse.*

(* After five hundred years, Crowley has learnt not to clean up his come from between Aziraphale’s legs unless asked to. He doesn’t understand why Aziraphale likes it; semen drying on skin is sticky and uncomfortable, Crowley finds.

But at least, Aziraphale doesn’t seem to take offence that Crowley prefers to vanish it off his person as soon as possible.)

‘That feel good, angel?’

‘Very,’ Aziraphale sighs, looking blissfully worn out.

He looks about to lie down, before his gaze finds Crowley’s hardening cock again. For a moment, Aziraphale stares. And then he smiles, quick and disarming.

‘You too, hmm?’

Crowley can feel his cheeks heating up. ‘OK, so I see where you were coming from.’

Aziraphale chuckles. ‘So you can believe me now that you, er, did make it _good enough_ earlier? Even though I didn’t finish?’

Crowley just grunts out something made up mostly of consonants, looking away with a blush.

There is a pause. ‘Are you close?’ Aziraphale asks.

Crowley blinks. ‘Er … ah … kinda. Not too far off.’ He looks up at Aziraphale carefully, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Does Aziraphale mean to -?

His half-formed question is answered when Aziraphale, without warning, swings a leg to sit astride Crowley’s hips.

‘Angel,’ says Crowley, jaw dropping open.

Aziraphale gives him a shy smile. ‘It doesn’t seem very fair,’ he whispers as he closes his fingers around Crowley’s cock, ‘that I get to come twice tonight but you only once.’

‘Uhh … I, uh …’ Crowley swallows thickly. ‘Yeah, um. _Fair_ isn’t really part of a Demon’s vocabulary.’

‘It’s part of an Angel’s, though,’ says Aziraphale, and next thing Crowley knows, Aziraphale is sinking onto his prick.

The Angel is still slick inside with oil and Crowley’s spend, and the wet filthy sound the joining of their bodies makes is enough to fully harden Crowley’s cock.

‘Ohh,’ Aziraphale breathes when he is fully seated, eyelids fluttering with pleasure. Crowley lies still, hardly daring to breathe as he tries to take in that this is happening. Aziraphale still wants this, wants Crowley. He’s not rushing to part ways but he’s here, trying to give back as much pleasure as he can to Crowley.

Bracing his palms on Crowley’s chest, Aziraphale meets his eyes. ‘I can’t again so soon, but…’ He doesn’t bother to finish as he lifts his hips and then sinks down on Crowley again with a low moan.

‘Angel,’ Crowley breathes, staring up helplessly as Aziraphale begins to ride Crowley’s cock with wild abandon.

Crowley’s hands find Aziraphale’s plush waist, but other than that, he lets Aziraphale do as he pleases, setting a hard passionate pace.

Aziraphale’s own cock is spent and soft, but he looks like he is enjoying himself nonetheless,breathless sounds dropping from his lips as he fucks himself on Crowley.

‘Fuck,’ Crowley breathes. He is such a vision. Aziraphale is such a goddamn vision and it’s not long before Crowley is gasping loudly, his body shaking as he comes again.

Aziraphale moans loudly, as if the orgasm were his own, and lets himself collapse onto Crowley, who quickly wraps his arms around him. Guiding Aziraphale to lie down next to him again, Crowley tucks the Angel to his side, tangling their legs together.

For a few minutes, Aziraphale lies bonelessly beside him, his heavy breathing slowly calming down and evening out. Crowley says nothing and just holds him, Aziraphale’s head pillowed on his right shoulder and his left arm snug around the Angel’s waist.

Tonight is proving to be something really special, Crowley muses to himself. Not only has Aziraphale stayed back for more unlike their usual trysts, but it’s also one of those rare instances that he is allowing Crowley to hold him after sex.

Crowley swallows. They are lying so close together that his mouth brushes Aziraphale’s forehead. Just for a moment, he purses his lips, applying the slightest pressure to Aziraphale’s heated skin.

Just for a moment, he pretends it’s a proper kiss, bestowed on an Aziraphale who is in his arms not for sex, but for Crowley.

He clears his throat when Aziraphale begins to stir. Without removing his face from where it’s tucked under Crowley’s chin, Aziraphale says, ‘I … I don’t know what brought all this on tonight. But … thank you.’

‘Ugh, shut up with that gratitude shit,’ says Crowley automatically. He can almost feel Aziraphale smile in amusement at his reaction.

‘So … do you feel a bit better now?’ Crowley continues softly.

‘You know, I do believe I do. No wonder humans find any reason to keep doing this.’

Crowley snorts.

‘I hope,’ Aziraphale continues, sounding a little thoughtful, ‘that I was able to return the favour.’

‘You did,’ Crowley tells him, his thoughts now turning to why he’d actually sought out Aziraphale tonight. He hesitates for a few seconds. Then, taking a breath, ‘You know, what I was offering this afternoon is something like this, Aziraphale. Us doing little favours for each other. In a professional capacity.’

‘Favours,’ Aziraphale repeats flatly. His shoulders have slightly tensed at the mention of the Arrangement again.

Crowley keeps going, ’Yes, we’re … in a sense, we’re helping each other, aren’t we? Lending a hand where it is needed? You said it yourself, a good fuck helped to take the edge off.’

Crowley doesn’t need to look to know Aziraphale is blushing.

‘Took away a bit of the stress from the past few days, at least, yeah?’

The Angel doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t move away either, lying in Crowley’s arms in silence.

The lack of a reply doesn’t surprise Crowley too much. He knows Aziraphale well and he can guess that, their little clandestine meetings aside, it will take a bit more wheedling to get Aziraphale to warm up to the concept of the Arrangement. But at least, the seed has been planted.

‘Well, think it over, angel. Can’t hurt.’

They lie together for another minute before, inevitably, Aziraphale murmurs, ‘I … I should go back. It’s late and … I ought to check on John.’

‘Right,’ Crowley mumbles and, with utmost reluctance, opens his arms. The cold that seeps in the moment Aziraphale leaves them is almost icy. With a sigh, Crowley follows Aziraphale to get dressed.

Once they are back in their linens and Aziraphale wrapped in his fur caplet - Crowley had miracled Aziraphale’s armour back to his campsite because it’s ridiculous to put all that on again - Crowley offers, without any real expectations, to walk Aziraphale back.

To his utter surprise, Aziraphale gives him not a stammered excuse but an actual smile. ‘Oh, all right, then.’

Crowley is so struck dumb by his luck that he doesn’t say another word until they arrive at the edge of Aziraphale’s clearing. Right outside the glade, the Angel turns to him and, after a moment of hesitation, offers a soft good night.

Crowley gazes at him. Tonight has, indeed, been something else and, buoyed by all that happened, he decides to take a chance.

Taking a single stride towards Aziraphale, he wraps his arm around the Angel’s waist and, cinching him in, leans down to smack a loud kiss on his lips.

Aziraphale starts, but Crowley has already let go of him. ‘What are you doing?’ he says, but he looks, Crowley notes with pleasure, more embarrassed than alarmed, which is always an improvement.

Crowley doubts he can get away with a kiss like that again any time in the near future, but that doesn’t stop him from grinning broadly as he drawls, ‘Why, bidding you a good night, of course, Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round’.

Pleased with the flush on Aziraphale’s face, Crowley turns to leave. He throws one more look over his shoulder, dark with promise.

‘Until we meet again, angel.’*

(* Because Crowley is a covetous thing who covets Aziraphale’s time; and although the Angel hasn’t agreed to the Arrangement yet, Crowley won’t fail to find a way to spend time with him again.

Even if all he has to fall back on is their little wicked game.)

**Author's Note:**

> How this ended up being, idk, half-marathon sex I have no idea >.< But hey, it helped achieve a minor goal in this fic, which is to show a rare instance in which Aziraphale lets Crowley hold him after shagging, something mentioned on and off in previous parts of this series
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this one, folks! Next one will involve an Ineffable Wives encounter, but that's gonna take me a couple of weeks most likely.
> 
> In the meantime, I banged out a fic inspired by the Good Omens: Lockdown video, and updated another GO baby of mine, which you can find - along with my other Ineffable Husbands fics - [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Phoenix_Soar)
> 
> Drop a comment and make my day <3 Or come scream at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar) or [Tumblr](https://phoenix-soar.tumblr.com)


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